


Your Presence Against My Skin

by bafflinghaze



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, Established Relationship, M/M, fluff of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 07:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5155010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bafflinghaze/pseuds/bafflinghaze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nightmares are a part of Harry's life; but so is Draco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Presence Against My Skin

**Author's Note:**

> The _feeling_ of this fic has been inspired by [Stay Close to Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2421554) by [shadowofrazia](http://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowofrazia/pseuds/shadowofrazia).

Harry struggled to wake.

His breath came too short; his skin where it faced the air too cold, where it pressed into the bed too warm. Fear spiked when he found he couldn’t open his eyes, couldn’t move, but he could hear so _clearly_ the blood rushing in his ears, his heart thumping in chest, the sharp staccato of his breath.

The door creaked open, and if Harry _could_ have moved, then he _would_ have froze. But he could only wait as the footsteps got closer. A redness filtered through his eyelids. His breath stopped when fingers caressed his forehead.

“Harry.”

In a rush, air flooded his lungs, and Harry made the last step to wakefulness. “Draco,” he said weakly. He opened his eyes blearily. Draco was a pale blur.

“Hush.”

Harry let his eyes closed in an exhale. The bed dipped, and something warm pressed him into the mattress. Draco’s weight was heavy and confining, and paradoxically, Harry felt his tension fade.

Slowly, Draco’s hand rose and his fingers tangled into Harry’s hair. It rested there, a slight tug on Harry’s scalp.

“You were dreaming again,” Draco said.

Harry swallowed. “Don’t I always?”

Fingertips touched Harry’s eyelids, and he opened them, to see Draco’s eyes, grey and intricate against the blurry backdrop. Draco moved away, and Harry lifted his hands to receive his glasses.

“Alright now?” Draco asked, even as he withdrew his weight from Harry.

Harry followed the motion, sitting up. “Yeah,” he said slowly. “Yes.”

Draco’s lips quirked. “You don’t sound so sure about it.”

“I’m _sure_ , Malfoy,” Harry shot back. The uncomfortable feeling of his dreams were already fading away, til he could no longer remember what they were about.

Draco’s lips formed a full smirk, and he stepped lightly off the bed. “Then you can go cook breakfast.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Harry grumbled. He accepted Draco’s hand, pulling himself up. “What do you want?”

Draco kissed his hand, and fluttered his eyelashes. “A full English breakfast, my darling?”

Harry gave a sudden laugh, surprising him and making Draco wink. “Of course,” Harry shook his head. “You do realise cooking is _just_ like potions?”

Draco snorted. “Nice try, Potter. Cooking is _nothing_ like potions, or else _you_ would be good at it.”

Harry grinned and shrugged. “Well, I try.”

Draco bodily turned him around to face the door. “Enough pre-breakfast chatter,” he said sternly.

“You’re not going to die,” Harry rolled his eyes, but he let himself be pushed along by Draco towards the kitchen.


End file.
